Just A Little Bit Of History Repeating
by LizzieBoleyn
Summary: ALTERNATE UNIVERSE FIC! When a Calormene Prince falls for a kinswoman, King Caspian X has reason to be grateful that two Ancient Sovereigns with previous experience are on hand. Caspian, Drinian, Lucy, Edmund & Eustace to the rescue again!
1. Chapter 1: The Emissary

Author's Note: Standard disclaimers apply; I own nothing, I make no profit, I do this for pleasure and a love of the books.

This is part of the same AU series as Scenes from a Homeward Journey & The Treasure Hunters, in which Lucy, Edmund and Eustace return to Narnia at the end of VDT. It was first written a while ago, and needs a good deal of refining before being posted in full, but I thought I'd put up the prologue to test the water, so to speak. The Calormenes are a funny lot to write.

_**JUST A LITTLE BIT OF HISTORY REPEATING…**_

**PROLOGUE **

**THE EMISSARY**

"And so, most excellent and mighty King, in the name of my father, the delight of mine eyes; in the name of the great and glorious Tisroc Tambolan, descended in the direct line from Tash, the inexorable, the invincible, whose reign must and shall be eternal, I, Rameesh, Prince of Calormen, do kneel in humble and sincere friendship before you."

"Golly!" whispered Eustace, from his place of honour to the left of the Royal Dais. "He does go _on_, doesn't he?"

As if he had not heard the rude remark the speaker, a swarthy, spindly man swathed in a long gown that flashed with jewels, continued his address to his royal hosts, both of whom remained impassive (which is more than could be said for most of their closest courtiers, smothering grins at the boy's shrill comment).

"At Your Majesty's feet, and those of your most beauteous and gracious consort, I lay these caskets of gold, placed in my hands at the Golden Imperial Palace of Tashbaan by that most clement and pacific of sovereigns, the most benevolent Tisroc my immortal father, as token of his, and our, heartfelt admiration of Your most serene and gallant Majesty and this, your admirable realm. That Your Highness should consent, so soon after returning from that great journey (of which the balladeers even in our distant city sing) to this gracious reception of our embassy of peace, we take to be an augury of a friendship henceforth to be eternal between our two great realms."

"Your Imperial Highness is our very welcome guest," said King Caspian the Tenth solemnly, daring any of his subjects to dispute the assertion. "We are honoured by your gifts; still more so by your presence. We shall endeavour, throughout your time in our kingdom, to prove in every way our goodwill to your company, and to your empire. Will you allow that we present our nearest friends and advisors to Your Imperial Highness?"

"Your Majesty's graciousness to we poor strangers is beyond measure."

Lucy thought even Queen Celesta rolled her eyes at that.

"To our left, we present our royal predecessors, sent by Aslan to join us on our great eastern adventure," said Caspian, his formality challenging the children to giggle. "Imperial Highness, King Edmund and his sister, Queen Lucy of Narnia; together with their noble kinsman, Master Eustace."

"Most renowned sovereigns!" cried the Calormene Prince, shuffling on his knees from the central thrones to their feet. "This is the greatest honour, to encounter the mighty barba - _Narnian_ siblings that ruled so benevolently under their famed brother Peter, the High King! In the name of the Tisroc (may he live for ever!) I salute you!"

"Um, yes," said Lucy, blushing scarlet as her hand was seized and smothered with kisses. Edmund kept his hands (just to be safe) firmly behind his back as he bowed.

"We hope, Imperial Highness," he said, hesitant while he collected the proper phrases of royal diplomacy, "that this meeting of two great Royal Houses will begin an age of - cordiality between Narnia and Calormen the like of which was beyond our achieving, in ancient times."

"He means we beat them in battle quite often," Lucy whispered to her cousin as Rameesh, his curled beard dropping bits of hardened wax in the carpet so low was he bent, hastened to concur. Eustace could only nod.

"Indeed the martial prowess of Your most renowned Majesties is honoured still in the ballads of our minstrels!" cried the Prince. "Why! The great Tisroc Rabadash himself was humbled at the hand of the most valiant Queen Lucy!"

"I did have some help," she murmured.

"To our right," said Caspian, intervening before further embarrassment to either side, "we have assembled the chiefs of our Council: my Lord Drinian here, Lord of Etinsmere and Lord Admiral of our Fleet…"

The tall, dark-haired Narnian standing closest to the King's throne bowed. "Glad are we all to see Your Imperial Highness safe arrived," he said, carefully neutral as the Tisroc's second son (and reputed favourite) rose and returned his bow. "If there be aught we can offer your ship's company, I beg you make it known to me at once."

"Your Grace is indeed most generous, for our poor galley was much abused by storms in the Great Bight; she is naught, of course, to your mighty Dawn Treader, of which we have heard so much…"

"Should Your Imperial Highness wish to see over our Royal Galleon, I dare wager Drinian will gladly arrange it."

"Gladly, Your Majesty," came the prompt (and only slightly doubtful) echo. If Rameesh noticed the sharp look shared between sovereign and sailor, he did not show it.

Indeed, his delight at the offer was effusive enough to make Edmund wince. "I'll have Rhince alerted, Your Majesty," said Drinian formally. Caspian beamed.

"Thank you, old friend," he whispered, leaning over.

"Better he tour the royal galleon than a carrack o' war."

"Always suspicious, my Lord." Caspian grasped his arm. "Here, Imperial Highness, we present our former tutor, Doctor Cornelius; who, at the moment of our gravest peril, faced by the schemes of our usurping uncle, Miraz, risked his own life for the preservation of ours."

"Venerable sir!" cried Rameesh, seizing the half-Dwarf's hands. "Such a service performed is justly rewarded by a wise sovereign!"

"I did only that any loyal subject ought, Imperial Highness." Cornelius replied, flexing his freed hands to recover circulation from the Prince's ardent grip. Caspian smiled.

"Still, we shall never forget it. Beside Cornelius stands our faithful Trumpkin, who governed our dominions with moderacy and wisdom during our absence in the East."

"Imperial 'ighness."

"Fortunate is the prince with so trusty a servant," said Rameesh, whose hands remained firmly folded when faced with a true Dwarf. Caspian's mouth pursed.

"Beside Trumpkin stands Trufflehunter, Chief Badger of Narnia; and Sir Peepiceek, Chief of our Mice in succession to the valiant Reepicheep, who ventured on, beyond the End of the World, at the Utter East."

"A great burden indeed, to succeed so renowned and virtuous a warrior," said the tall Calormene. Around his knee-height, Peepiceek brandished his rapier in salute.

"All Mice of Narnia must seek to emulate our greatest Chief, Imperial Highness!" he squeaked. While the Narnians smiled, the Prince of Calormen managed a painful smirk.

"We and all our Council are at Your Highness's disposal throughout your stay in Narnia," the King promised hurriedly. "Now, enough of these formalities! Assembled in this hall we have the whole of our Court circle; will you not descend and greet them?"

Rameesh raised himself to his full height, his crimson, gold and jewelled robe swinging with his movement. "I would consider it the greatest of honours, noble sovereign."

"Good. Yes, excellent. My dear?"

Extending an arm to his wife, who accepted it with a smile, Caspian led his guest and the Council down into the body of the Throne Room, brilliantly lit by lanterns whose flames reflected everywhere from jewels and precious metals. The nobility of Narnia was assembled in all its finery; Lucy thought even a Prince of opulent Calormen must be impressed by the splendour the little _barbarian_ kingdom (he'd almost said it, she knew he had!) could display.

It had been hundreds of years since any Calormene embassy had come to Narnia, Caspian had told her when the first request for reception had come from the distant city of Tashbaan. The Tisroc (getting old and unlikely, however fervently his subjects wished it, to live for ever) had used the occasion of the King's marriage to suggest his son's visit, citing an especial fascination with the great quest from which Caspian was only two weeks returned. Dubious as they were of _friendly overtures_ from the ancient enemy, the Narnian Council had approved the visit; and here, six weeks later, was His Imperial Serenity's second son at the head of a lavish entourage, bowing and kissing hands as he faced the highest of King Caspian's court.

"I don't like him," murmured Daniela, Lady of Etinsmere, scrubbing the hand Rameesh had slobbered over against the side of her silver-trimmed blue satin gown. "Though to tell truth, Your Majesties, I hardly expected to."

"He's false," agreed Lucy. "And the way he looked at Trumpkin!"

"Aye, Ma'am." His wife was still considering her offended hand with disgust, much to Drinian's amusement. "Still, he's here a bare ten days, and _if _he has the authority of his father to agree any form o' treaty with us, I dare say the inconvenience is worth the while."

"What, even of allowing him aboard the Dawn Treader?" teased Eustace. Ninian, Lord of Greenglade and Drinian's cousin, almost choked on his Beruna wine.

"Let that son of a scoundrel aboard our flagship?" he sputtered.

"Quieter!" hissed everyone.

"Wonder if he'll let us aboard his in return?" asked Edmund. "It doesn't _look_ much! A galley?"

"And rowed by slaves, if I understood the Prince's captain aright." There were oars aboard all Narnian ships, for use in flat calm or dire emergency; every man took a turn. But a galley, manned by half-starved, chained men flogged by their commanders? Narnia had never sunk so low!

"I'm not sure I _want_ to see!" said Lucy with a shiver. "I say! Lady Beaversdam's being pawed! Where's her husband?"

"Where ever the drinks are," muttered Ninian. "Ah, Your Majesty!"

"My Lord, I think you have not yet been presented to our most noble visitor." The Calormene's impossibly formal way of speech was catching, thought Caspian, not at all pleased. "Your Imperial Highness, my Lord Ninian, Master of Greenglade."

"Sir." It seemed to Lucy the Prince's attention was elsewhere; he almost misjudged his bow, the enormous ruby in the centre of his gold silk turban actually grazing Ninian's forehead, so close did they come to collision. "Your Majesty - most magnanimous sovereign, pray tell me - who is that vision of perfection entering the chamber now?"

"Hm?" Frowning, Caspian turned, his ill humour dissipating the instant he saw her. Tall, with raven hair falling to her knees, a perfect, ivory oval face with delicate, level features and wide, violet eyes, the lady entering had the bearing of a queen and the looks of a fairy-tale princess. "Isabella!"

To the goggling Rameesh, he explained. "The lady is our nearest kin of the Telmar blood, Highness; Isabella, Duchess of the province of Beruna."

"Such beauty!" marvelled Rameesh. Lucy thought he might be about to faint. "Great King, I beseech you, permit that I am presented, that I may pay homage to this goddess!"

"Oh, well, yes, of course, gladly," stammered Caspian. "We were in some doubt as to whether my cousin would reach us for this evening's reception; she has been recently in Archenland, seeking the sanction of my cousin King Corin for her union with his kinsman Cor, Count of Lionwood."

"Sanction I dare say was granted, Sire, as the Count is come with her," Drinian put in quietly, first to notice the slight, sandy man at the Duchess's side.

"That ungainly _weakling_ to joined with so radiant a creature?" Suddenly the bonhomie slipped away. "Majesty! That you could permit such a _misalliance!_"

"The Lord Cor _is_ kin to the Royal House Anvard, Highness." Nettled, Caspian answered more sharply than he had intended (for he had been less than impressed with Isabella's chosen suitor himself, and for much the same reason; Cor was not ugly; just terrifyingly _plain_).

"Unworthy! Such a woman is born to mate with greatness!"

"It _was_ suggested, was it not, my liege, that Her Grace might be a suitable Queen of Narnia, in the early days of your reign?" murmured Queen Celesta, who knew such a suggestion would only stoke the Prince's outrage (while also embarrassing his host). Caspian coloured.

"There was hardly a noble lady of any northern realm _not_ mooted as a candidate for that honour, Ma'am," said Drinian. The King glared at him.

"Thank you, my Lord; I have not forgot those painful meetings of the Council," he said with a theatrical shudder. "Come, Highness, we shall present you at once to our cousin and her betrothed. Oh of course, _our_ consent was granted the instant it was asked."

As the King and his chief guest moved away, another robed and turbaned figure, smaller than the Prince and stooped with age, insinuated itself into the group. "My most Imperial master is bewitched, Majesties, by the barbarian lady yonder," murmured Rameesh's Vizier, bowing low.

Brows had furrowed at the use of the contemptuous Calormene term for the fair-skinned Northern tribes. "I intend no offence," he added hastily. "We are come in peace, emissaries of the affection our venerable master Tisroc Tambolan (may he live forever) bears for the noble and prosperous realm of Narnia. Indeed I may assure Your Nobilities, the most benevolent magnanimity of our Princeling's reception here will only further His Most Serene Imperial Majesty's gentle desire to do all that may be best for amity between our peoples. I mean only to observe, the goddess before whom His Highness kneels is a divinity any true Calormene would worship; a true Daughter of Tash, the inexorable, the invincible…"

"Pompous worm!" muttered Edmund. Ninian Greenglade developed a nasty (and very unconvincing) coughing fit.

"Permit, noble sir, that I summon water for you!" squeaked the Vizier, as Drinian obligingly thumped his shuddering cousin on the back and the ladies feigned noisy concern. "You! Slave! Bring water for His Honour!"

"If you would be so good, Rambles," added the Queen to the startled faun thus addressed. The creature (who reminded Lucy, with his chestnut colouring and curly hair, very much of her old friend Tumnus, the first of his kind she had ever seen) bowed and scurried away with a clip-clap of hoofed feet. "Ah, my Lord Vizier, your master summons you; yes, go with our blessing; I am sure His Imperial Highness is not accustomed to _waiting_."

"Indeed no, most gracious and bountiful Queen." Bowing, the old man backed away, almost tripping over the short train of his robe. "I come, Highness! Your most humble servant Alyoshka comes!"

Eustace puffed out his cheeks. Ninian stood up, quite recovered (and without the aid of water) from his coughing. It was left to Lucy to say what everyone was thinking.

"It's going to be," she announced solemnly, "a long ten days!"


	2. Chapter 2: Idyll, Part 1

Author's Note: Rameesh's stay in Narnia will occupy the next three or four chapters (maybe more knowing how I tend to run with these things!)

_**IDYLL: PART 1 **_

Long, she corrected very quickly, and tiring; for the court of Narnia was in constant glittering attendance, providing entertainment to its guests as if to grant an hour's respite would provoke war between the kingdoms.

They rode in sparkling cavalcade to Beaversdam; cantered into the foothills of the mountains between Narnia and Archenland; toured pretty villages and endless rolling countryside. Eustace winced with every step he took, grumbling to anyone who would listen about the horrid discomfort of saddle-soreness. Edmund laughed at him, and everyone was too polite to point out that the Ancient Sovereign himself flinched every time he had to climb a stair.

Lucy, who rode in her other, half-forgotten English life, was kinder than her brother expected. "You're not the only ones suffering, you know," she whispered before bedtime on the eighth night. "I've danced at least twenty times every night for the last week, and I'm all _over_ blisters! You'd understand, Ed, if Rameesh had brought a sister and her household who needed _suitable_ partners!"

"Goodness, I hadn't thought of that." Eustace whistled. Edmund shuddered.

"Ghastly thought! Goodnight, everyone!"

They went hunting in the great forests of the Lantern Waste; paused at Aslan's How, the Stone Table of the Golden Age, to picnic on velvet blankets in its shadow.

"Where's Rameesh gone?"asked Edmund, tugging Drinian's sleeve as the tall sailor oversaw the packing of the picnic baskets in the mellow warmth of late afternoon. Drinian's brow creased.

"Last I saw, with Your Majesties to the top of the mound," he said, absently tearing a crusty roll and offering half to his young friend. Edmund munched it gratefully.

"Thanks; we've been so busy being the Ancient Sovereigns I hardly had a mouthful to eat at luncheon," he groused. "He buttonholed Lu and I for _ages_ while the rest of you were setting out the food; I saw him later with Caspian and Celesta in the woods, but that wittering ninny of a Vizier's asking about him, and I've not seen hide nor hair in an hour."

"I know you've been trying to hide from him, Edmund, and really, it's quite unkingly of you." Caspian sidled out of the woods, looking guilty as a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cake tin. "Aslan's Mane! Hand me that wine flask, old friend, before packing it away. Our _noble guest_ would drive the Hobbled Hermit of Hambdon Hill to drink!"

"Think yourself fortunate to be spared the company of his _most unworthy servant Alyoshka, _Sire." Edmund, who thought Drinian one of the bravest men he knew, was certain the Narnian blenched. "If I hear once more how benevolent a master his most gracious Imperial Highness has been, I shan't be responsible for my actions! Ah, Your Highness! Their Majesties were wondering where you were."

"Noble sirs, your pardons!" Arm in arm with Queen Celesta and the Duchess of Beruna, with the Ladies of Etinsmere and Beaversdam close behind, Rameesh fairly sauntered from the woods. "Lost in wonder at the manifold beauties of this astounding realm, I fear I have lost sight of time. Gracious ladies, for your society a thousand thanks! Truly, gentlemen, nature's gifts have been most lavishly bestowed upon the fortunate land of Narnia!"

"We think it so, Sir; in both our countryside _and_ our ladies." Caspian wrinkled his nose behind their visitor's back, displeased with his attempt at gallantry. Lucy, wandering to join them in time to hear, buried a giggle in her yellow satin sleeve, while Rameesh plucked a golden rose from one of the many bushes growing wild to present to her fellow Queen.

"Indeed, most valiant sovereign, the fairest flowers of _all_ varieties do dazzle the eye in these verdant forests!" he exclaimed, beard kissing the turf in another extravagant bow. "Venerated Queens – most radiant Duchess – fair ladies… how fortunate are the men of the northern lands!"

Celesta and Isabella blushed; Linetia Beaversdam simpered; Lucy rolled her eyes at her cousin, while the Mistress of Etinsmere chuckled richly. "As are the ladies of the Empire, Imperial Highness, if such extravagant compliments are offered their way!"

"Why, do I not compliment your fair complexion often enough, my Lady?" enquired Drinian, arching a brow to the King. Daniela wafted a hand his way.

"As often as you laud your galleon's fine trim, dearest; else when I kick your ankle hard enough," she cooed. Drinian caught her hand and raised it, palm uppermost, to his lips.

"Well, considering the dozen times daily I praise my lady Dawn Treader, my Lady Daniela may be the most admired woman in the kingdom!"

"I _do_ wish you would stop flirting!" Linetia Beaversdam tapped her ruby satin slipper impatiently. "One ought _never_ to be seen publicly flirting with one's husband, Daniela – my grandmother thought it quite _improper_."

"Honourable madam, I think it charming – though it pains me to dispute the opinion of so amiable a dame as yourself!" Rameesh wrung his hands. "And my Lord Drinian, in the name of my father, the delight of mine eyes, the most venerable Tisroc (may he live for ever!) I beseech you; continue to flatter and honour this rare jewel you have for your wife! Such wit and spirit are seldom so enchantingly combined with beauty."

"I dare not disagree, Sir, lest my ankle be the sufferer." Smiling, Drinian released his wife's small hand. Daniela dipped a teasing curtsey.

"A great sorrow, most beauteous Duchess, that my lord the Count was required so urgently in his own land." Amid the laughter of their friends, Rameesh turned his large dark eyes to the elegant girl hovering with head bowed at the edge of the lively group. "With marriage so near, would not _all_ men value the lessons to be learned observing such contented alliances as those we see about us here? Reverend Majesties – my Lords and Ladies all! Tash grant me equal satisfaction in my life's mate!"

"I trust he shall, Sir." Blushing under his scrutiny, Isabella murmured the appropriate response before Caspian could bestir himself. "Cor hopes to return to Narnia before the end of your visit, as he must acquaint himself with the Beruna estates: I hope Your Highness will accompany us there."

"Your Grace's benevolence to we poor travellers is unbounded!" For a horrid moment Lucy thought he was actually going to fall to his knees before the stricken Duchess. Edmund stooped over her shoulder, his gusty sigh blowing through her hair.

"One really would think they'd have learned _not_ to fall for Narnians," he whispered. "I say, Scrubb! There's a bowl of strawberries been missed, pass them around there's a good chap! What's the agenda for tomorrow, Caspian?"

"We shall ride to Lionmead, King Edmund, and take a tour of the Dawn Treader, at His Imperial Highness's special request." If he hoped his nervous glance toward the galleon's Captain passed unnoticed, Edmund thought, Caspian was going to be disappointed. "Then to my Lord High Admiral's residence for dinner. I believe you will appreciate Etinsmere House, Imperial Highness; sparing my old friend's blushes, I think it one of the finest old manor houses in the country."

"Shan't hear disagreement from me, Sire," said Drinian comfortably, offering a cupped hand to boost his lady into the saddle. Rameesh, stepping onto the bent back of his Vizier, dipped his lofty head.

"And will our most admirable hostess, and the other ladies join us aboard ship?" he asked, and though the enquiry was general his almond-shaped eyes never left Isabella's lowered head. Queen Celesta shook her flowing yellow mane.

"The crew will endure disruption enough by His Majesty's visit, Imperial Highness. Queen Lucy, King Edmund and Master Eustace will be of your party, they being familiar to the crew from their long voyage east; we ladies have ample occupation at Etinsmere!"

"Right glad I shall be of all the assistance offered," agreed Daniela cheerfully, her eyes meeting Celesta's in sympathetic accord. "Isabella, you're welcome to join us; there's naught more tedious for an affianced maid than sitting at home in her beloved's absence - as I know all too well!"

"Do come, Isabella!" cried Caspian, snatching his startled cousin's hands and giving her an impetuous spin as their horses were led up. "Why! You go to Archenland for _ages_ between now and your marriage; grant me at least a little time before you leave! Imperial Highness, you'll support me?"

"Her Grace's radiant presence would delight the soul of any so blessed as to share a table with her." Rameesh kicked his mount to an extravagant rear, forelegs clawing the air. "Gentle lady! Grant us a few more sacred hours in your revered presence! Dine with us at great Etinsmere tomorrow!"

"If Your Highness would have me attend – and my Lord and Lady of Etinsmere have room at their table…"

"Always for you, Ma'am, though we may send your cousin to the scullery," Drinian volunteered. Caspian chortled.

"Thank you, old friend!" he exclaimed, steering his glistening chestnut stallion onto the forest path leading east to Cair Paravel and the coast. "Oh! I shall gladly eat in the darkest cellar, my dear Highness, if it should leave a seat for my cousin at so honoured a guest's side."

"And the King well knows, Imperial Highness, my husband would find himself eating with the kitchen maids before His Majesty would be dismissed from Etinsmere's table." Serenely smiling, Daniela guided her fine-boned roan between the two grinning friends. "Really! Your Majesty - my Lord – you behave more like naughty infants now than you did as children at Caspian the Ninth's castle!"

"And so they jolly well should!" said Edmund firmly. "D'you remember how dashed difficult it was, Lu, having to be sober and grown-up _all_ the time?"

His sister nodded vigorously. "Being expected to be serious is _ghastly_," she agreed. "_Do _hurry up, Eustace! If you _keep_ allowing Scimitar to chew the hedgerow, it'll take us all day to get home!"


	3. Chapter 3: Idyll, Pt 2

_**IDYLL: PART 2 **_

They rode to the prosperous village of Lionmead at the edge of a sheltered shell-shaped bay after breakfast, meeting Drinian on the stout stone wharf. "And all this, most eminent Majesties, was wood and pasture merely five years ago?" exclaimed Rameesh, ducking away from the stocky Black Dwarves who dashed from the single-storey grey stone square of the Admiralty to catch the newcomers' bridles. "Such elegant architecture, and these fine stone houses, all so recent? Such a forest of masts so newly raised? Gracious sovereigns! My commendations!"

"All compliments should be directed to my Lord High Admiral," said Caspian with a grin. "Why! To build a single man-'o-war and man her for such a wild venture as I required; to make mariners of a people long terrified of the sea; to create a fleet of merchant ships and a dockyard fit to maintain them; then persuade our people to trade with Galma and the other isles… all these things were considered impossible by my Lords of the Great Council!"

"Your Majesty's Great Council had not a seaman aboard, Sire; can't expect an assembly of _lamentable lubbers_ to recognise what needs to be done." With a wink to the smart gathering of his staff, human, dwarf and faun alike, who gathered to cheer the royal party at the Admiralty door, Drinian shooed his little party down the quay to the Dawn Treader's anchorage, where her gangway had been lowered in readiness. "A good deal of intelligence and precious little sense, that's what your first plans had!"

"Most admirable Lord!" exclaimed Rameesh, clasping his long hands. Caspian laughed.

"Dear Drinian!" he said fondly. "Gracious, Highness, I'm not offended! My virtuous predecessors will confirm: the one subject who says what he feels a king _ought_ to hear in place of what he would _wish_ to hear is more precious than rubies!"

"I'll say," agreed Edmund warmly. "Must say though, Drinian, the fleet's a credit to you, Caspian's right. And _we_ never thought to use this place as an anchorage."

"Can't imagine why not, Sire; the curve o' the coast makes it the most protected harbour we have."

"Takes a sailor to see it, Ed, don't be too hard on yourself," said Eustace helpfully.

"Most likely," Drinian agreed, casting a speculative glance up to the main deck. "Now, we're short on time, as Your Highness has been kind enough to arrange a tour of your ship. Your Majesties – Imperial Highness."

"Oh no, my friend!" Rameesh paused with one curve-toed shoe hovering over the walkway's end. "The senior officer present – to whit, my Lord High Admiral – is first to board and last to leave the ship. Naval discipline must be maintained, eh?"

"As Your Most Aggravating Majesty pleases." With a grin to the children that brought a scandalised _O_ to their honoured guest's lips, Drinian sauntered aboard, tossing off a careless return to Rhince's parade-ground salute. "All in order?"

"Aye, Cap'n. Your Majesties – Eustace – Imperial 'ighness."

"My deputy, Rhince, Sir." Drinian's words emerged clipped, Lucy thought, as if he too noticed tension in the hand Rameesh extended to the sturdy, plain-dressed sailor. "This is His Imperial Highness' vizier Alyoshka Tarkaan, Master Mate; and this his captain, Lasarel. Make 'em comfortable and ensure the men mind their manners."

"Glad to, Sir."

"No he isn't," whispered Eustace. Lucy trod decisively on his foot.

"Neither would you be. Oh, jolly good, we're starting below. Captain! You _will_ let us climb to the fighting top?"

"Doubt I could stop Your Majesty." Rameesh's glance had lifted instantly to the crow's nest circling the masthead, and to Edmund's delight the Calormene looked faintly sick. "Queen Lucy is as nimble about the rigging as any of the crew, Sir; we've a job to keep up with her when she goes aloft."

"You're much too kind, Drinian." The girl blushed. Rameesh snatched her hand to slobber upon.

"Most renowned Queen!" he cried. "Your courage was lauded in the days of my most estimable and warlike ancestors (may Tash, the inexorable, the invincible, guide their spirits!) On the throne of my father, the delight of mine eyes, I place this wager: that my honourable Lord Drinian gives no greater praise than is your due!"

"Indeed." Behind their guest Caspian could see the shoulders of the officer on watch (Rynelf, he thought) heaving with repressed laughter. "Through the hatch here, Sir, we have the Great Cabin - mine, save when a royal lady is aboard – and facing, that of our gallant Captain."

"Do mind your head, Highness," added Lucy helpfully, wincing in readiness for the crunch of skull against timber. She suspected Eustace wasn't alone in scowling at her for raising the alarm.

"It's too bad of you," she muttered, giving each boy a jab with her elbows. "I _know_ he's an insufferable bore, but he _is_ a guest! You'll find Drinian's cabin very simple, Imperial Highness; he doesn't believe in using it very much! Are we really to tour your ship after?"

"Indeed, most ancient Queen, it will be the greatest honour my servant Lasarel could know to display our great galley to you!" Rising sharply from his accustomed bow, Rameesh smacked straight into the low cabin ceiling, giving his turban a dazed pat. "My Lord Drinian, I beseech you tell me! How can a man so tall endure this box for a length of time at sea?"

"By spending as little time inside as my duties allow, Your Highness." Swiftly moving across to shield Eustace's broad grin, Drinian guided them out of his cramped living space and across to the Great Cabin with its gilded Lion mural; enough, Edmund hoped, to terrify the supposed direct descendant of Tash. "We tried to decline Captain Lasarel's invitation, Lucy," the Captain added under his breath, and she squeezed his hand, thankful for his dismayed compassion. "Wager they'll keep us above the oarsmen's area, at any rate! Yes, Your Majesty, we're coming. Down the ladder with care, everyone; it's a steep descent to the bottom of the hold!"

* * *

Lucy was sure she had never been prouder to be a Queen of Narnia. The Dawn Treader overshadowed her Calormene neighbour in every way imaginable, even though they were carefully spared the horror she envisaged lurking below among the oarsmen's benches. Captain Lasarel, mumbling and languid, had less seamanship, she was sure, than Eustace; the dandified officers who strutted about the _Bolt of Tash's _narrow fore and aft castles reminded her more of show poodles in England than mariners. She didn't dare look at Drinian; just walking a pace ahead, she could sense his bristling indignation.

"Mast's there for show, Ma'am, and a paltry one, at that," he muttered when, taking advantage of the noisy confusion of departure, she asked his unvarnished opinion. "Can make good speed under oars in a flat calm, but in a gale I'd as lief take my chance in a leaking barrel as such an unweatherly barge as this! Captain Lasarel, thank you again for your hospitality."

"Most honoured Admiral, our pleasure in receiving your Grace's party is redoubled!" trilled Lasarel with one of Calormen's customary flourishing bows. "Perhaps your Nobility might consider adding such a craft to your own most estimable fleet?"

Edmund turned sharply from Rameesh's Vizier, narrowly missing a head butt to the chest. Lucy thought every Narnian ear had pricked to catch Drinian's measured reply.

"In such chancy waters as ours, Captain, such a vessel would lose the advantages I'll wager are enjoyed in the calmer seas farther south. If Your Majesties are ready to disembark…"

"Gladly," said Caspian, with more feeling than tact. "We have a good ride north to Etinsmere, Your Highness, and the ladies will be very cross if by our dawdling dinner is delayed!"

"For the pleasure of the most esteemed Lady of Etinsmere – and Your most serene Majesty's venerable consort…." cried Rameesh, yanking the silvery beard of his cringing captain. "To horse!"

* * *

"And so we fled the castle with the shrieks of my aunt ringing in our ears!" Caspian had to raise his voice over the laughter sweeping around Etinsmere's long dinner table. "I still say, my Lord Drinian, the mouse in Aunt Prunaprismia's shoe was the best of all our pranks!"

"Certainly caused the most distress to the termagant, Sire." Drinian lifted his goblet. "And no, Peepiceek; the mouse in question was assuredly not one of _your_ people. Even the Lady Prumaprismia's slippers were not _that_ big."

"Our Dumb brethren enjoyed an honour we more fortunate Mice would have relished, my Lord!" Perched on a stack of books and cushions, Reepicheep's mischievous successor brandished a crust between his paws. "Though we had not the misfortune of _personal_ _acquaintance_ with His Majesty's aunt, Imperial Highness, her notoriety reached every corner of the realm."

"I doubt not, most noble Beast, your presence would have been a thousand times more terrible to the lady." Rameesh's neck creaked with the minimal effort of movement made to bring the Mouse into the edge of his vision. Caspian pursed his lips.

"He's a Calormene, Caspian," whispered Edmund. "He doesn't mean to offend; they're just not used to animals that talk back."

"I think he's jolly determined to offend," muttered Eustace, winning an assenting sniff from the bushy-bearded Red Dwarf opposite. "Ow, and now he's pawing Isabella again!"

"Just as well she's engaged, or we might have another Rabadash on our hands." Edmund shuddered at the memory. "Imperial Highness, why don't you try some of these sugared strawberries? They're from Glasswater aren't they, Daniela?"

"Aye, King Edmund; my husband's more rugged territories produce little soft fruit, Imperial Highness." Daniela smiled at the man in the place of honour at his hostess's right hand, only to find him staring down the table away from her.

"Fortunate for us all my cousin is affianced," whispered the King. "Else we might _never_ be rid of these pestilential visitors! Imperial Highness, will you join us in visiting Beruna two days from now? My cousin's town, as you know, is one of the finest in the kingdom."

"It will be my privilege to visit the natal place of so esteemed a princess, Sire."

"She's a Duchess, actually," muttered Eustace. "I say! Isabella, I know Caspian calls you his cousin, but what _is_ the relationship, exactly?"

"My great-grandfather was brother to His Majesty's, Eustace." When she would have stretched for the fruit bowl, Rameesh sprang to his feet and made a performance of carrying it along the table to her. "Thank you, Your Highness, but please: do resume your seat, my Lord Trumpkin will surely return the bowl to its rightful place."

"Indeed, most esteemed lady!" Still, he hovered at her shoulder until she had made her choice, ceremoniously bearing the bowl back to the centre of the table. "However, I would not disturb the honourable creat – _gentleman_ from his feast. Estimable Kings – virtuous Queens! Noble gentlemen and ladies – and Beasts, of course! Allow me once more, in the name of my father, the delight of mine eyes; in the name of the Tisroc (may he live for ever!) to toast the most gracious and hospitable people it was ever your humble servant's good fortune to know!"

"Your Royal Highness is most generous." Edmund, facing him, sensed Drinian tensing in readiness for the flood of flowered support from the shrivelled lips of Alyoshka Tarkaan, cowering beside Trufflehunter at the far end of the table. Had their shrewd host placed him between a Badger and a Faun on purpose? He suspected so.

"Just as well, too!" said Eustace when they could snatch a moment in the large square entrance hall to talk, their hosts being engrossed in the Calormenes' extravagant leave-takings. "Gosh! He barely spoke a word apart from _quite so, reverend Highness! _and _oh indeed, O noble and virtuous Prince! _all evening. Can't we leave him with Peep and Trufflehunter for the rest of their stay?"

"Don't be horrid, Eustace; they get tired of him too." Lucy ducked behind the boys with hands folded inside her gown's loose fur-trimmed sleeves. "I don't want to be dribbled over again this evening," she said defensively. Edmund gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"We'll protect you, Lu," he promised. "Pity there's nobody to defend poor Isabella! He's pawing her again!"

"Besotted, Your Majesties." Trufflehunter took advantage of his superb camouflage to melt into the darkness behind them. "A fortunate chance His Archenlandish Majesty gave consent to her marriage before our guests arrived, or a second contender might have offered himself."

All three children shuddered. "What a ghastly thought!" said Lucy. Even Eustace, she thought couldn't find good reason to argue with _that_.


	4. Chapter 4: Idyll, Pt 3

_**IDYLL: PART 3**_

"I didn't think it took this long to reach Beruna," whispered Edmund, easing his mount between theirs where the path widened between two lush copses of oak and beech. "We must have been on the road for _hours_ already."

"It's not the distance; it's the company." Eustace was careful to keep his head bowed lest the particular company referred to should glance his way. "I loathe Tashbaan already, and I couldn't even find it on a map! When did you go there, Ed?"

"Ages ago, and it was even more ghastly than you imagine." A family of rabbits popped up from their burrows, raising three shrill cheers. Instantly the three children dropped back to allow them a better view of the King and Queen. "I wonder if this Tisroc's like the one Su and I met? A great, fat slow-moving slug of a fellow with the cruellest beady eyes I ever saw. That dratted Vizier – where _is_ he, by the way? – says this one's a paragon of virtue."

"They say that about them all," Lucy pointed out sensibly. "After all, don't they pretend Rabadash himself was _naturally peace-loving, temperate and wise_? That's not how _I_ remember him. And the Vizier's with Drinian."

"Poor Drinian," said Eustace with feeling. "I can hear him wittering away from here."

His cousins glanced back briefly before their eyes met in compassionate understanding. Drinian held himself stiffly erect in the saddle, his tanned skin pulled taut across the high bridge of his nose. "Poor fellow," agreed Edmund as Eustace groaned, catching the fifth _May-he-live-for-ever_ in succession. "I dare say Alyoshka won't bother himself about talking to a Dwarf or a Centaur…"

"Glenstorm's jolly intimidating," Eustace commented under his breath. Lucy nodded.

"They're so big and _stern_, even though I know they're darlings really" she agreed. Edmund frowned.

"Which means he's been chewing Drinian's ear since we left Cair Paravel," he finished.

"Sooner his than mine," Eustace muttered, spurring his pony forward. "I say! Caspian, do those red roofs I see between the trees mean we're almost there? Isabella's promised us a fine dinner!"

"Do you _ever_ think of anything but food?" wailed Lucy as Edmund urged his horse into a canter, leaving her behind.

The high trill of Alyoskha Tarkaan's false laughter snagged in her ear. Silently cursing her soft heart, Lucy reined her pretty palomino back, allowing the riders behind to catch up. "We'll see Beruna once we're through these trees, Vizier. Look! It's the only town in Narnia that has those red tiles instead of grey slates on its roofs."

"Gracious and renowned Queen, tales of this town's loveliness have stretched even so far as the city of Tash itself!" He dropped the reins, clasping his fat little hands. A passable horseman at least, she decided, to control even a placid mount with legs alone. "And – if I may speak boldly – it has been the utmost desire of my most benevolent and sacred master, the delight of my autumn days, to gaze upon it since his eye first alighted on the radiant damsel that resides here! Had her Grace only ridden with this noble party, how much brighter the sun must have shone! Why! Valiant sovereign – most noble lord – I see no bridge to carry us dryshod across the torrent of this most picturesque river!"

"There's no need for a bridge, Vizier, when the ford is so shallow!" cried Lucy. "There _was_ a bridge, of course, but it did so spoil the place! Everyone was glad when Aslan had it brought down."

"Aye, Ma'am. Even in the worst winters the ford's passable, and the bridge was a proper ugly piece of a usurper's work." Trumpkin tugged his foxy beard, button-black eyes twinkling. "Whistles and whirligigs, Vizier! Even I won't get my knees wet crossing in the worst o' the autumn rains! Bridge, indeed!"

"The Great Bridge of Tash is among the glories of the Empire," Alyoshka cried, and it seemed to Edmund he was not alone in lamenting Beruna's distinct shortage of bridges. Ahead, Rameesh had reined sharply back, his borrowed stallion scrabbling against the riverbank for a solid footing. "Fully thirty great arches of stone span the breadth of the Great River, joining the Tisroc (may he live for ever!) at his Imperial Palace with both sides of his obedient dominion! Such grace and scale would be unfitted for so crude a hamlet… crave pardon, I mean no offence of course…"

"None's taken, really," Edmund assured him, between gritted teeth. "After all, Beruna is a market town – not the capital city of a huge empire like yours."

"Indeed, great king, you speak with the justice for which your legendary reign was renowned!" A pair of excited hares leapt across their path, bringing the whimper of a baby (Eustace thought, firmly telling himself he hadn't been frightened in the least) to the Tarkaan's bloodless lips. "Venerable Highness! In the name of your father, the delight of all eyes! In the name of the Tisroc Tambolan whose reign must and shall be eternal! Permit your insignificant servant Alyoshka to enter these broiling waters before you! Do not permit, most valiant Narnians, the sacred foot of Tash's heir to be sullied by the filth of an alien river!"

"Would you care to drink before we pass on, Imperial Highness?" Caspian's expression remained regally calm, but the reins trembled in his abruptly tightened grasp. "Beruna water is famous for its purity: indeed my cousin will serve it at her table this evening. My dear – King Edmund, Queen Lucy! Shall we ford the stream together? I see Isabella approaching from the town gate."

"Allow that I lead the way, virtuous sovereigns!" Almost shoving his cringing servant aside, Rameesh plunged into the gentle, plashing water, his grey's ankles barely wetted. "Beauteous and admirable lady! We are charmed by the rustic sweetness of your dear town! Vizier! Let fall your age-dimmed gaze on yonder treasure and tell: have we such marvels of pastoral charm in Calormen?"

"None indeed, wisest and best of masters." The Vizier would never have entered the ford, Lucy was sure, without the surreptitious slap of his horse's hindquarter by a small, work-toughened hand. Trumpkin gave her a friendly wink, pushing his mule down the bank's gentle slope in pursuit.

"Need the parrot on the Imperial shoulder, Ma'am, before the compliments to the Duchess start flying," he said comfortably when she would have rebuked him. "Kingfishers and kettledrums! Be glad when this infernal palaver's over and we can get on with the business of governing Narnia."

"Or patrolling for pirates the farther side o' Narrowhaven," added Drinian with feeling. "Nay, Lucy; on your honour as a Queen, can you tell me you'd _not_ like to be a hundred leagues from here for the rest of this Prince's visit?"

"Of course not, but he's only here for another three days. Hallo, Isabella! I thought Cor was going to be with you?"

"His Archenlandish Majesty requires his presence at the Council table, Queen Lucy." Perfect pearly teeth cut into a succulent lower lip. Edmund wondered if the Duchess realised quite how lovely she was; or how intently one of the newcomers observed her, his thin lips curling nastily at the mention of her absent fiance. "It seems we are not to be reunited until I visit Lionwood."

"Virtuous lady!" Rameesh turned with an actor's extravagance from the speaker to her nearest kinsman. "Renowned King, do you permit your maidens to venture unwed to the home of a gentleman? Can this - this - this..."

"Barbarian outrage, O scion of the Divine line!"

"Remarkable liberality," Rameesh amended with a twitch of the toe that sent his Vizier scuttling, "be commonly permitted by a moral prince?"

"My cousin hardly endangers her virtue, Highness." Among the townsfolk assembled with flags and flowers to welcome his party, Caspian sensed a stirring of resentment: not to be wondered at with the ancient term of contempt falling so readily from an honoured guest's lips, he admitted. "She travels with a party of four men-at-arms and three ladies, including Her Grace's devoted nurse, who has attended her from infancy. Besides, what man would challenge the honour of Narnia's kin?"

"Who indeed, that recalls the warlike prowess of this famous kingdom!" He backtracked more skilfully than his servants, Edmund admitted grudgingly. Firmly planting his mount alongside Isabella's, Rameesh nearly knocked down a small pair of sisters dashing to present nosegays to the King and Queen. He cast a considering look the length of the High Street, taking in the low whitewashed houses with their bright-painted doors and their flower-laden window boxes."How grievous it must be, gracious Madam, to depart this, your charming town! And to leave its citizens, so visibly devoted to yourself!"

"Your Highness is most kind, but in truth these crowds are come to show faith with my cousin." Lifting her hand in answer to the resounding cheers, her pale oval face coloured faintly. "See, Sire! The butcher raising his Dwarf neighbour up for a better sight of our procession!"

"Aye, and the Dwarf allowing a man's aid." Deep satisfaction enriched Caspian's light, merry tones. "A sight unlikely to have been seen five years ago, eh, Drinian?"

"Commonplace now, Your Majesty." Yet still, Edmund thought, remarkable enough to one who knew the thousand-year division between Man, Dwarf and Beast in these parts. Enough, too, to offend the sensibilities of their foreign guests, who regarded the balding middle-aged tradesman with a horror not all their ceremonious training could quite hide. "When does Your Grace leave for Lionwood?"

"Six weeks hence, my Lord, though we are to spend a week at Anvard on our way. Cor's stepmother resides there now you see: His Majesty has appointed her Mistress of the Robes to the Queen he hopes soon to find."

"Always did have a liking for the Lady Reginala when he was mere Prince Corin," Drinian remembered with a grin. Caspian shook his head until the golden curls were bouncing.

"I cannot imagine what manner of woman will wed such an oddity as my cousin!" he exclaimed. "Did you ever visit Lionwood, old friend, during your exile?"

"Nay Sire, though I sailed past a thousand times. During my exile through the usurper's reign, Imperial Highness, I served several years in the Archenlandish Fleet," Drinian explained. Rameesh nodded, giving his pointed beard a thoughtful rub.

"He'll have wax all over his hands now," said Eustace disgustedly, ducking a rain of flower petals tossed from the balcony of a large whitewashed house standing alone at a crossroads. "_And_ they'll be stained with that ghastly red dye."

"Don't shake hands with him," Edmund advised. "Isn't Lionwood the village at the very mouth of the Winding Arrow, Isabella?"

"Indeed, King Edmund; the castle stands on a hilltop looking down on the village, with a path leading down to the shore."

"Windy, I imagine," said Eustace.

"Awfully picturesque, though," argued Lucy.

"More rugged, we must suppose, than the gentle pastoral lands which have nurtured this rare rose of Beruna!" cried Rameesh, snatching a sprig of blossom hurled from the crowd and presenting it with his familiar flourish to his neighbour. With a merry smile, Isabella tucked it behind her ear, a splash of scarlet against the jet gloss of her hair.

"The castle is among the finest in the kingdom; and His Archenlandish Majesty gives his word, Cor will be spared attendance at Anvard that we might give sufficient attention to my lands. We turn west at this crossroads, Imperial Highness; the path leads directly to the manor gates."

"Majestic!" cried Rameesh, lifting glowing eyes to the elegant granite house built around a small courtyard, coloured lanterns strung from its upper windows and among the ancient oaks that lined its broad sandy drive. "A natal place truly fitted for so divine a princess! Dearest lady! Have we the honour of dining in your halls this night?"

"No, we're going to eat in the barn," muttered Edmund disgustedly. Lucy tutted.

"I know he's an ass, but he's a harmless one," she whispered. "Even Isabella only laughs at his silliness now. I say! Did Caspian just say we're having a gathering at the Dancing Lawn for their last night here?"

"Aye, Ma'am." Drinian and Trumpkin shared a look of gleeful satisfaction. "His Majesty's suggestion," the tall man added quickly. "He thought it _enlightening _for our guests to see more o' Narnian society than he'll find at Cair Paravel."

Edmund grinned hugely. "I'm sure he will," he spluttered. "Has anyone told Rameesh yet?"

"I think," said Lucy, very seriously. "I should have Isabella do that. After all, if _she_ says she's looking forward to seeing him there..."

"She should be lying through her teeth like the rest of us!"

"Most likely, Eustace." Trumpkin gave his russet jerkin a vicious tug straight at the hem. "Still, a few more days and we're rid o' the infernally chattering devils! And while they're here, at least we're properly fed! Lead on, Your Majesties! I can fairly taste that Beruna Broth already!"

"It must be a boy thing," muttered Lucy, casting off her dove-grey cloak in the large square hallway. "Honestly! _All_ you ever think about is _food_!"


	5. Chapter 5: Fond Farewells

_**FOND FAREWELLS**_

A huge bonfire crackled at the centre of the Dancing Lawn, around which five circles of dancers, Human, Faun, Dwarf and Beast alike ran and skipped to the pipes and drums of a noisy band of not-entirely-tuneful fauns. In the closest to the flames, his orange and black skirts kicking up with every step, Rameesh spun between Queen Celesta and Duchess Isabella, clinging to both as his pointed shoes did their utmost to send him sprawling. "At least he's making an effort," said Lucy, her little legs giving way after a full hour spent skipping and spinning in the melee. "I rather thought he'd sit at side and refuse to join in."

"Dare say he would if Isabella and Celesta allowed it." Edmund crumpled beside her on the springy turf, shadows from the ring of flaming torches around the limits of the open festival ground skimming across his glowing face. "Ouf! One has to be fit for this!"

"Fitter than I am." Puffing noisily, Eustace threw himself onto his back, scanning the star-spangled sky with half-closed eyes. "Hullo, Glenstorm! We're not interrupting your studies, are we?"

"Not at all, sir." From a great height the Centaur dipped his shaggy head, making the powerful muscles of his human torso ripple. "Your Majesty! By your face, I fear the stars have not led me awry. Ill news, Sire?"

"Inconvenient more than ill, though my Lord Drinian may argue." Taking advantage of the shadow cast by the great creature's glossy chestnut hindquarter, the King sat heavily beside them, rubbing his creased brow. "His Imperial Highness has begged permission to sail to the limit of Narnian waters in our company aboard the Dawn Treader."

"Is that a problem?" asked Eustace.

"Bother!" said Lucy and Edmund.

"What had been a courtesy - our sailing in company - becomes a state occasion, Eustace," Caspian explained gloomily. "The whole Council and much of the court will board with us in the morning. There must be speeches and toasts and such like as we sail. In short, we shall be on display tomorrow, without liberty to loll on the fo'c'sle singing and telling tall tales. Bother!"

Edmund cleared his throat. "Does Drinian know yet?" he asked.

"Aye." With a jerk of the head Caspian directed their eyes to the tall figure of their friend, hands moving rapidly as he gave orders to three men of the Dawn Treader's company who, in their best clothes, had been given leave to attend the night's festivities. "And glad am I no lady was present to hear our gallant Captain's expressions of displeasure! _Most_ instructive, but I must confess, not quite _courtly_."

Eustace sniggered.

They watched the sailors salute and scurry away. Drinian squared his shoulders, puffed out his cheeks and slipped back beyond the circle of torches, cautiously working his way through the darkness of the surrounding woods to the King's party.

"Damned infernal nuisance, begging Your Majesties' pardons," he growled, stretching out to his full length beside them. Caspian grinned.

"A moderate summary indeed, my Lord! Perhaps, Sir Glenstorm, this aggravating amendment to our settled plan is the _seed of plague and pestilence_ the stars foretold from this Calormene visit."

The Centaur crossed strong arms across his bare chest. "Your Majesty may be assured, the Heavens did not deceive us. The seed of plague may be sown long before the effects of sickness show."

"True enough," agreed the King. "Aye, Lucy; the warning of the stars explains - in part at least - the anchorage of the _Bolt of Tash_ far out in Lionmead Bay. If there's pestilence among our guests' company, the lower deck of a galley's the most likely breeding place."

"Rameesh certainly seems healthy enough." Every head was turned by the cautious caw of the Prince's reluctant laughter. On the farther side of the bonfire he had reached the big outer ring of dancers, with Isabella on one arm and his other hand engulfed by the great meat-plate that was Giant Wimbleweather's tentative grasp. "At the moment!" Edmund finished anxiously. "If Wimbleweather's not careful, he'll be going back to Tashbaan with every finger crushed! Drat the fellow! I really thought this was the last time I'd have to put up with hearing myself calledthe _most Venerable and Ancient of Kings_! Let's join in the dancing again, Lu; he's about to stop I think, and I'm blowed if I'm going to be standing about for him to attach himself to!"

* * *

They set out from Cair Paravel after breakfast; Caspian and Rameesh, followed by the three children, the Star's Daughter, Beruna's Duchess and the Mistress of Etinsmere with Trumpkin and Doctor Cornelius, the one in green velvet, the other his rusty black gown, and the whole of the Narnian court. "It _would_ have been so much nicer if they'd just said goodbye over breakfast," Edmund groused, pushing his mount into a swerve to avoid the over-excited Chief Mouse who insisted on scurrying between hooves on his way to the cavalcade's head. "I say, Peep! Do be careful or someone's going to stand on you."

"My apologies, Sire!" Bowing low enough for the yellow feather he wore pinned behind a circlet of gold wire to brush the soil, Peepiceek skittered forward, ignoring the harrumph of the larger Beast lumbering behind the children's group.

"No harm done, Trufflehunter," said Eustace. The Badger scratched his broad striped snout.

"Not this time, young master; a Calormene might not be so considerate of a Mouse's paw as King Edmund, mind."

"Not a mouse, but a member of the King's High Council, Sir Badger," the Queen reminded him gently. "His Highness, what ever his flaws, has shown great respect to _that_! Daniela! What are the crew doing, hanging from the rigging so?"

"We're to be cheered aboard, Ma'am." With a smile to the groom who ran to catch her bridle, Daniela vaulted lightly down from the saddle at the wide harbour gates. "See! Drinian will be _most_ uncomfortable, forced to manage his ship in full uniform! White hose, he says: which infernal idiot thought _that_ a sensible uniform for sailors?"

"One of his ancestors, I should imagine," said Lucy, quite failing to repress her giggles. Every man wore the white silk hose and blue velvet tunic of the Narnian Royal Fleet instead of the more practical wool and leather of normal service, and while they looked impressive it was, she admitted, a hopelessly impractical choice. "Has Rameesh finished apologising for making him leave Dancing Lawn early last night, Daniela?"

"Nay, Ma'am, though I told naught but truth in declaring it his custom to spend the night before sailing aboard." Her coffee eyes dancing, Daniela shepherded her little party forward in Caspian's wake along the harbour wall toward the lowered gangway. "Besides, the prospect of the whole court cluttering his decks put my good Captain into such a bad temper, I was glad to see him go!"

"I hope we shan't get under his feet too much," said Eustace, startled. "He never seemed bothered by us on the Eastern quest."

"_We_ are seasoned travellers, Eustace." Caspian, stopped to gather his companions at the gangplank's base, smiled merrily. "Imperial Highness, shall we board? Ladies and gentlemen, I see we have benches and tables on the maindeck; be kind enough to use them, and permit our shipmates to attend their business unmolested! My dear - Lucy - boys. Shall we lead the way?"

Drinian stood at the entryport, his uniform identical to that of the crew save for the gold at his wrists and shoulders and a broad belt of gem-studded gold at his waist. "Welcome aboard, Your Majesty," he called over the last echo of the crew's cheers. "The Dawn Treader stands fit for sea, Sire."

"We never doubted it for a moment." Caspian returned his friend's formal bow. "And shall do our utmost to cause no disruption to the smooth running of your ship. My lords and ladies all, hurry aboard! I see the _Bolt of Tash_ stands off the coast awaiting us."

"Oh, my! I can scarce keep my footing, is this horrid walkway moving?"

"Lund, catch Linetia's hand; and do stop making such a _fuss_, dear! You're not even off the quay yet. Lund! Are you going to help your wife, or simply stand and let her make a complete ninny of herself?"

"Perhaps we should clear the entryport, Your Majesties." As the Lord of Beaversdam, a slow-moving heavyset man who reminded Lucy of nothing so much as a Bulgy Bear just out of hibernation, shuffled to take his shrill silver-blonde wife's arm, Drinian just managed to avoid rolling his eyes at them. Malica, Lady Passarid, small and merry with a plain, freckled face and an infectious smile, positively skipped through the chattering scrum, throwing herself onto one of the stools placed along the landward bulwark.

"You shan't mind my snatching a good seat, my Lord Drinian?" she called, brushing off the scandalised stare of their foreign guest as easily as she did Linetia Beaversdam's affronted sniffs. The tension tightening his features softened briefly.

"Keep my cousin Ninian from the poop, Ma'am, and you may sit where ever you please. Imperial Highness, the moment we're clear of the bay we shall reef sail and cruise beside your galley. My lady."

"Captain." To the unutterable astonishment of his friends, Drinian actually blushed as he stooped to kiss his wife's proffered hand. "Linetia dear, if you feel ill sit close to one of the buckets at the side of the deck."

"Thank you, Daniela, I really do feel most _odd_." Lady Beaversdam clutched the taffrail with one hand, the other pressed dramatically to her brow. Malica Passarid snorted inelegantly.

Caspian frowned. "I rather like her," said Lucy. Linetia Beaversdam pressed a long white hand to her brow.

"Oh! Is the boat going to rock so dreadfully for the whole journey?"

"The _ship_ is still at anchor; there's no movement at all yet!" With an apologetic shrug, Daniela hastened to guide the protesting woman away from a knot of sailors around the entryport waiting to heave the gangway aboard, all of them gaping at the lady as if she wore two heads and a pair of green fins. Caspian cleared his throat.

"Yes, well, if we are all safe aboard, my Lord Captain," he said lamely. Drinian snapped off an immaculate salute.

"Man the capstan! Sailmen, away aloft! Hold her steady, helmsman: she'll fairly leap when the anchor's off the bottom!"

Linetia Beaversdam's groan was drowned in the flurry of purposeful activity his orders unleashed. Settling with Caspian's party on the forecastle, Lucy lifted her face to the sun and let her tongue trace the first shimmer of salt from her parted lips. "Glorious!" she exclaimed. "Really, Caspian, we've been on shore much too long!"

"Spoken as a true mariner, Queen Lucy." Rameesh, it seemed to Caspian, had taken a faint greenish tinge with the first shiver of movement through the keel. "When we are clear of the bay, Imperial Highness, luncheon will be served on the maindeck; and I believe Rynelf will be freed from his tasks to entertain us on the accordion."

"Charming, Sire!" The Prince did not sound entirely sincere. For the first time since the Imperial party had landed in Narnia, Eustace agreed with him wholeheartedly.

* * *

At least, he thought later, the tinny shriek of the instrument helped drown Imperial conversation at the picnic table. The drone of Rameesh's ceremonious compliments seemed even more annoying now he knew he was soon to escape them.

"Tisrocs probably die of boredom from hearing everyone hoping they'll live for ever," he whispered. Lucy grinned into her wine cup.

"Lots of them have died young because their sons have been terrified they might!" she replied. "Gracious, are we having to luff the sail again? Galleys really don't suit strong currents, do they?"

"Your Majesty's verdant shores are subject to stronger tides than we of the South ever know." Rameesh folded his long hands around the twisted stem of his green glass goblet. "Gracious sovereigns, pray tell: why does not our esteemed Lord Drinian entrust the menial matters of seamanship to these hirelings? Is their obedience so little to be relied upon that a gentleman must so exert himself?"

Even Lady Beaversdam stopped whimpering. Ninian Greenglade froze with a piece of game pie halfway to his mouth. Eustace was sure the only movement on the maindeck was the fractional twitch of Caspian's clenching jaw.

"Hirelings!" hissed Peepiceek, unnoticed behind the bench at Caspian's feet.

"I'm surprised he didn't say _slaves_, actually," muttered Edmund.

"Our crew are entirely to be relied upon, Imperial Highness," the King said at length, matching the Calormene's careful enunciation of each word. "Were they not, my Lord Drinian would never entrust his master's life to their care! However, matters of navigation and seamanship are not, in Narnia, considered in any sense _menial_; and to steer a great ship so near another vessel, keeping pace in such dangerous seaways, is a task for a seasoned mariner. There is none more competent than my Lord High Admiral to steer our course."

"Won't you have more wine, Imperial Highness?" The Duchess of Beruna offered the flagon to her neighbour, her gentle courtesy smooth over the awkward silence following the King's speech. Lucy let out the breath she had been holding.

"Will you pass the cream please, Daniela?" she asked, ignoring the suspicious looks from boys who knew she never took anything but custard with her apple crumble. "Perhaps we should take Drinian a plate of something - there's venison pie, _and_ slices of roast goose; and surely he'll need a drink after hours on duty? I know the galley's rowing awfully close, but it wouldn't hurt to leave Rhince at the helm for long enough to have some lunch with us!"

The gentleman's wife laughed. "Goodness, Ma'am, no!" she cried. "Your Majesty understands, of course?"

"I believe so." Caspian grinned fondly toward the great wheel. Rameesh clapped his hands.

"Gracious sovereign, in the name of Tash, the inexorable, the invincible, enlighten us!"

"Yes, do stop talking in riddles, both of you," agreed Edmund, wiping the last pastry crumbs from his chin.

"My friend prefers that his two worlds - court and the sea - be kept distinct," said Caspian simply. "To his crew, he is _the Captain_; to his present passengers, the Lord of Etinsmere. To bring the two together makes him uncomfortable."

"Hence his retreat into that where he feels most at ease," Daniela concluded. "Why, Isabella! Did you not see how bashful he became, welcoming his wife to his ship? This is _Captain Drinian's_ world. Your Majesties have shared it; you know the Captain as well as the nobleman. To court society, _he_ is no less a stranger than the Master of Etinsmere is to this crew."

"I suppose I see," said Edmund slowly, while Eustace, Isabella and the gentleman's Greenglade cousin cried out their protests. "Think of someone calling us _Your Majesty_ in the other place - England, rather - Lu. It wouldn't half give a chap a turn! I say! Is that the Giant's Toe?"

"It is, King Edmund." Drinian had seen it too: hands cupped to his mouth, he bawled the orders which backed the Dawn Treader's huge purple sail and stopped the ship dead, her timbers quivering against the current's strength. "Here, Imperial Highness, we must part. Captain! Shall we have the boat lowered?"

"No cause for that, Your Majesty." Drinian bowed from his station, and suddenly Lucy knew whatever was about to happen had been plotted between the two men in advance. "Imperial Highness, if your captain would be so kind as to boat his oars, we'll lay alongside and hook on the grappling lines. You can step from our deck to yours in a moment."

"An estimable feat of Narnia's famed seamanship, my Lord!" Eyes which had widened at the prospect of clambering into a small gig closed briefly in unspoken relief. "Lasarel! Withdraw the oars! We are in your hands, sir."

Proudly the children and Caspian looked on as the Dawn Treader was eased alongside the lower, longer _Bolt of Tash_, bumping against her with barely a shudder as her strong grappling chains were thrown across.

Caspian fired a glance the length of the ship. Visibly squaring his shoulders, Drinian pattered down the poop ladder, taking his place among the Royal councillors to make a farewell bow.

"Imperial Highness, We wish you safe passage to Tashbaan," Caspian called, climbing onto the bulwark to balance precariously as the linked ships rocked on a gentle swell. "Your visit has been the greatest of honours to Us and Our realm. We trust it has been both pleasurable and instructive to Your Imperial Highness; and that you leave with fond memories of Narnia and the faithful friends you have made. Aslan bless Your Highness, your party and your Imperial father, His Serenity Tisroc Tambolan. May he truly, in the words of your great filial prayer, live for ever; and may the Empire of Calormen eternally prosper in his care."

"Most gracious sovereign!" Followed by his cringing vizier, Rameesh moved slowly along the line of Narnians, brushing brows in low reverences with the men and kissing the tense hands of the ladies. Lucy was thankful to see even the Star's Daughter discreetly wiping the back of her hand against her peach satin skirt when he had passed by. "The blessings of Tash, the inexorable, the invincible, fall like summer rain upon this hospitable kingdom for all eternity! May his great wings spread protection over Your most renowned Majesty, your revered and radiant consort, your just and valiant predecessors and your great and generous servants! Be assured, my noble and honoured friends, this your kindness to Us and Ours shall be recorded in the annals of Calormen for all of time; that I depart these prosperous and noble lands with emotions of the deepest reverence and respect, wishing your Graces all, Man, Dwarf and Beast alike, many eons of peace and fruitfulness in all you do! In the name of that divine ancestor, the founder of my ancient and venerable line: in the name of Tash and his servant, the delight of all eyes, my father the Tisroc Tambolan, whose reign all the servitors of the gods demand must be eternal: thanks and blessings upon you! And - if I may be permitted this indulgence! Beauteous Duchess - gracious Isabella, accept from your most humble servitor the warmest wishes for your everlasting happiness in matrimony! This parting is too sorrowful to be borne - dear friends, farewell!"

"By Jove, he does have to be _dramatic_," muttered Edmund, who had to be nudged by his sister to wave as the Prince leapt down from the rail, sunlight lancing from the ruby atop his orange turban as he vanished to his galley's much lower deck. "They're not wasting time hauling back the grappling hooks! Are we coming about immediately, Drinian?"

"Aye, King Edmund; with your permission, Sire."

"Go to it, my Lord Admiral." With great determination Caspian turned his back on the gaudy galley, painted red and green that crawled southward from his dominions. "Lion be thanked, we are free of those infernally chattering slaves! My ladies and gentlemen all, our thanks for your support these past trying weeks!

"Glad to be of service, Your Majesty," said Trumpkin instantly. "Only wish we could have got that confounded treaty out o' the devils afore they left. Soup and celery! Never heard so much flowery flummery in all my days. Is there any of that pie left, I'm properly starved!"


	6. Chapter 6: Disaster

_**DISASTER**_

Three months flowed peacefully past from their distinguished guest's departure. There was no sign of pestilence or plague any where in the kingdom (not that Eustace dared point out the fact to Glenstorm, however much he might have liked). Lucy was certain she had never been happier in her life.

At least until _it_ happened.

The island castle of Cair Paravel lay silent. Only a few lanterns glinted in upper windows, to show where the last few inhabitants worked, or read, or talked before retiring. The Royal Apartments stood in darkness. In their finely-furnished guest chambers high in the seaward tower, Edmund, Eustace and Lucy slept soundly. Even the corridors were deserted.

In the silence the hoof beats of a single horse thrumming on the soft grass of the mainland, the snorts of the animal's breath as it was urged on, echoed louder than a thunderclap. From the forest the animal emerged foamy with sweat, its rider bent forward over its neck, half-fainting with exhaustion. The ghostly glow of the full moon caught on the silver of his spurs and the deadly glint of naked sword at his hip. He reached the wooden drawbridge, always left lowered (except in time of war), and spurred his steed across with a clatter and a hail. "Open the gates! I am Cor, Count of Lionwood! Give me entrance, in the Lion's name!"

From nowhere, footsteps began to sound behind the castle's golden walls. Voices called in sleepy confusion; a key scratched rustily, and with a squeal the great castle gate was swung open. "Wha's the palaver?" shouted the Captain of the King's Guard, brought from his bed over the gate, half-dressed and groggy. "Who disturbs His Majesty's peace?"

"Take me to the King!" cried the wild man who slithered into a heap at the Captain's feet. "Of your mercy! My betrothed is gone - seized from my very gates! I must see the King!"

"Wha's the yellin' about?" To the Captain's great relief (as he tried to disentangle his legs from the panicked grip of the intruder) the Dwarf Trumpkin, foxy hair everywhere, stumbled from the inner court in his nightgown to assume command of affairs. "Soup and celery! Lord Cor! What's to do at this time o' night?"

"My lady - Calormenes - noble Dwarf, for the love of Aslan, take me to the King!"

"Calormenes?" Not a word of it made sense to Trumpkin, but the fellow was distraught (or mad, thought the Captain of the Guard) and the best policy was probably to humour him. "See to the gentleman's horse, guardsmen! If you'll follow me, my Lord, I'll rouse up the King."

"Thank you - Aslan bless you!" cried the anguished nobleman, who could manage no better than a staggering lurch in the bewildered Dwarf's wake. "We must make haste - six and thirty hours are lost already. Isabella!"

"What on earth's happening?" They were passing through the guest chambers. Tousled heads were emerging left and right, sleepy-eyed children staring at the newcomer's wild expression with alarm and not a little dread. "Trumpkin, what's the matter?"

"Dunno, Your Majesties; his Lordship's rambling on about the Calormenes."

Lucy, Edmund and Eustace tied their dressing gowns about themselves and trotted out into the halls behind him. "Do we _have _to make a procession of it?" Trumpkin demanded irritably, stomping up the next short flight of stairs to the King's own bedchamber. "Your Majesty! Here's the Lord Cor, begging admittance - says the Calormenes are coming! Whistles and whirligigs! Why not bring the cook up to hear as well!"

"The Calormenes have _come_! Sire, of your compassion, hear me!"

"What in the name of the Lion?" wondered Caspian, dragging open his door. "Cor! Trumpkin, what is the meaning…"

"Perhaps we might allow His Lordship to explain," suggested the steady voice of Queen Celesta from deep within the room. "And summon refreshment, good Trumpkin; if you are ridden hard from Lionwood, my Lord, you must be half dead!"

"Your Majesties!" Cor slumped onto his knees at the King's feet, and in his agony Lucy thought he looked nobler than one would ever have thought that insignificant creature could be. "At daybreak yesterday, thirty men at arms wielding scimitars burst into my home. Shouting their Tash-inspired war cries, they seized my affianced bride, your cousin Isabella from my house, murdering and wounding the faithful servants sent as her chaperones; bound her hand and foot and, holding me at the point of a dozen swords, carried her off by force!

"Your Majesties, I knew the leader; he spat into my face and cried that such a _wretched slave _as I was unfit to mate with a _barbarian goddess_. Sire, he was Rameesh, the second son of the Tisroc!"

"Rameesh!" whistled Eustace between his teeth. "Golly!"

"She is gone, Sire; stolen as a slave to that - that Calormene devil! 'Tis said there was a galley off the river mouth: our villagers confess they heard a woman scream, and two men were beaten off, one of them wounded severely, by the invaders as they sought to save her. Isabella is gone, and Sire, I know not what I'm to do!"

"Trumpkin, summon my lords of Council directly," ordered the King, when he had regained the power of speech. "Send to Etinsmere for my Lord Drinian; summon Peepiceek from his troop; rouse Cornelius from his cottage and Trufflehunter from his lair. We shall retrieve your betrothed, my Lord; I pledge the crown of Narnia itself on it. Lucy - boys - run to your rooms and dress. We shall gather in the Council Chamber the moment our friends are all assembled. Come, Cor, drink some wine and tell us _exactly_ what occurred. And don't fear; all will be well. This _outrage_ will not be permitted to stand!"


End file.
